


The Weight of the World

by boychik



Category: Dangan Ronpa
Genre: Dreams, Fat Togami, Fatness, Gen, Girth, achievement, arete - Freeform, aspirations, glory - Freeform, hopes, piercing blue eyes, virile blond hair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-17
Updated: 2013-06-17
Packaged: 2017-12-15 07:09:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/846746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boychik/pseuds/boychik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Togami Byakuya really wants to be fat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Weight of the World

**Author's Note:**

> I would call it crackfic but Togami wanted to be fat in the first place so...

Togami Byakuya looked at his father, so neat and trim in his pinstripe suit. The fabric was created and hand-picked from their own line of silkworm factories and sheep-herding-and-learning facilities—for Togami sheep had to be both beautiful and well-educated to be worthy of use (there was no hope for the silkworms, though they’d tried). The subtly unique cut was designed by _la crème de la crème_ of Italian designers and hand-stitched over thousands of hours by the finest tailors in the world. (Some might say this was in excess, but some were wrong. Every step in the process was necessary to achieve the excellence befitting a Togami.) Even the sparkle in the suit was of the highest quality: tiny matching blood diamonds from the Togami-owned quarries, glittering in the Togami family custom-made cufflinks and the ornate, monogrammed pocket watch and chain affixed to the soft yet structured vest. Classy as the suit was, if his father turned to the side he’d be invisible. If the man himself did not stand out in a crowd, how could even the finest sartorial creations save him from mediocrity?

A man heading one of the country’s—no, _the_ world’s—largest corporations should indubitably have the girth to match his money.

At that moment Togami knew he wanted to be fat.

He didn’t tell his parents—it wasn’t their fault they didn’t have it in them to be fat; besides, for him to insult their slimness now would be hypocritical, as his current BMI was unfortunately trending on the lower side of average. (Oh, average! How he loathed the word. A Togami was anything but average.) Togami was a fat baby, weighing in at nine pounds and six ounces—surely he could reclaim some of his former glory without the interference of his parents.

He made a point of it to switch his diet from one rich in water and legumes to one consisting solely of triple-deep-fried chicken. No longer would any vegetable pass his lips—too great was the danger that he could expend more calories than he gained digesting a stalk of celery or a slice of red pepper, and as such waste his precious time and energy consuming a substance detrimental to his goal. When he was in need of change, seal-fat ice cream was brought to him in massive soup tureens. He eschewed water, preferring instead to down gallons of whole milk at a time. It was a proper substitute for mother’s milk, which had she the time to breast-feed rather than delegate the task to a maid, who, not pregnant, “had no choice” (in her words, not Togami’s) but to nourish Togami with a weak lactose formula, would have provided Togami with a physical wealth far surpassing his current frail state. “Had no choice.” The words were nonsense! But it would be too much to expect a commoner, however inured to the ways of the Togami family, to have enough intelligence and ambition to think to go buy a clan of fleshy, lactating seal mothers and attach his toothless maw to the nipple and watch over him as he imbibed the rich flow. Due to her negligence, he would have to take matters completely into his own hands.

He watched Kobayashi’s videos obsessively, and despaired. How could a man who had set the Guinness World Records for eating en masse hot dogs, meatballs, and Twinkies remain so pointlessly, ridiculously, foolishly skinny? Was it all the exercise? Looking at Kobayashi’s disturbingly slim frame, Togami vowed then and there never to exercise. With the kind of money the mere interest on his portfolio was bringing in, he could afford to construct a moving walkway in his path whenever he wanted to go somewhere anyway.

\---

Despite his best efforts, Togami had remained slender for years. He never gave up though, not when he saw on American television images of the heaviest people in the world, mocking him with their endless, unearthly rolls, and not when a sudden pubescent growth spurt left him five pounds underweight and with a briefly shaken confidence. He scorned the fools on _The Biggest Loser_. Togami Byakuya was set to become the biggest winner. Just you wait, Jillian Michaels. Just you wait.

\---

One day Togami woke up and felt an exciting weight around his body. He started to get out of bed, then stopped. It wasn’t a voluntary action so much as the fact that the accumulation of pounds of lard around his neck, his thighs, his chest, and most gloriously his belly had rendered him unable to exit his cushy king bed in any other movement but the classiest of rolls.

When he looked in the mirror, what greeted his vision was so splendid, so noble, he could hardly believe his eyes. It was the culmination of achievement truly befitting the Super High-School Level Heir, prince of the Togami Conglomerate, and, someday, ruler of the free world.

Where there were once the unintimidating lean muscles and angular planes of bone that wildly attracted poor girls, there was now a glorious abundance of flesh in the sort of rosy pockets and deep, bulging crenellations he had only dreamed of. His ribbon had popped off during his nightly growth, and his body had ripped his fine cream-colored suit to shreds. No matter. He now resembled one of the more obese statues of Buddha, save for the fact that he was not jolly, cold and hard, but soft and warm and firm of mind. Thanks to the emergence of his long-dormant fat, the stink of the commoner would violate his fine nose no longer! All through the land his girth would be hailed! The rich controlled the world, and soon the bourgeoisie would be stuffing their faces with inferior approximations of his triple-deep-fried chicken diet, attempting to engorge their bodies and attain the impossibly rotund physicality of their lord and master. But without money, they were nothing. Nothing!

For in the mirror, for once not foe but friend, he saw this: A silhouette indistinguishable from that of the planet Earth, save for the noble brow, the thick virile head of blond hair, the piercing blue eyes of a Siberian tiger, and the silver glint of glasses suggesting a sharp, educated mind. Oh, and his legs and arms. Though admittedly they bore a closer resemblance to pillars of earth than to human limbs, so overall the effect was one of total physical dominance and complete and utter resplendence.

This was a man who could command respect. This was a man who was worthy of transcending his father. This was a man who carried, quite literally, the weight of the world.

He lifted his meaty paws to his fat face, almost not daring to believe it was true. The son of Togami had become the true Togami. It was all he ever wanted, and it was beautiful. As he gazed into his own light, Togami Byakuya began to cry.


End file.
